I don’t have answers to that. And there’s a good chance that I never will.
3
SAOIRSE
The next afternoon I’m supposed to get brunch with Maggie, and while I’m tempted to cancel and stay home to keep an eye on Connor, I resist the urge. He’s slept through the morning anyway, waking only long enough to come to the kitchen for frozen waffles and more ibuprofen and then retreating back to the bedroom.
I’d caught a glimpse of his torso when I’d woken up, and it had been slightly horrifying—covered in black and purple mottled bruises where he’d landed, from his shoulder down his back and side, disappearing into his boxers where I was sure more bruises laced his hip and thigh. I’m still of the opinion that he should go to the doctor to make sure nothing is cracked or damaged, but I know better than to convince him.
He’s also crabby, biting off a sharp ‘good morning’ when he came into the kitchen and nothing more before hobbling back down the hallway. So I’m not exactly brokenhearted at the idea of getting out of the house for a little while.
I leave a fresh glass of water on his side table before I go, glancing at him. He’s asleep again, lying on his back with his auburn hair tousled around his face, and it makes something in my chest clench to look at him. He looks peaceful, softer, almost boyish in a way, and I want to reach out and touch him. But I know better, and I turn away instead, texting the driver and heading downstairs.
Brunch is at Maggie and I’s favorite downtown café, a small bistro spot with outdoor seating that we enjoy as often as we can when the weather is nice. Today at least it’s not too hot to sit outside, so I throw on a knee-length floral sundress with straps that tie at the shoulders and a pair of sandals, trying to look more cheerful than I feel.
My husband almost died yesterday. And he thought I wouldn’t care.
I had horrible dreams last night. Nightmares of Connor trapped in the warehouse, unable to get out, while I watched it burn. Nightmares of me screaming to him, telling him how to escape, while he ignored me, turned away from me.
Nightmares where he decided all of this wasn’t worth it and went back to London, leaving me behind.
I’d woken up feeling tired and beaten down as if I were the one who fell nearly a story, not Connor. By the time I make it to the restaurant, I’m very much looking forward to a drink.
Fortunately, Maggie has already ordered a pitcher of the bistro’s signature spicy Bloody Mary. She waves to me as I approach, pouring me a glass from the sweating pitcher, and I take a sip as I sink down into the wicker chair, letting out a sigh.
“That bad, huh?” Maggie raises an eyebrow, and I take another sip.
“Connor had to drop from the fire escape. He’s banged up and bruised all over.” Another sip, and as the spicy alcohol burns down my throat and settles in my stomach, I start to feel a touch more relaxed. “He’s not exactly in a good mood.” I glance at the paper menu, then back up at Maggie. “Did Sasha get back to her hotel okay?”
“She did,” Maggie confirms, taking a sip of her own drink. “I walked her all the way up to make sure she got to the room safely. Those kids she watches are adorable, by the way.”
“Viktor Andreyev’s children. Head of the Russian Bratva,” I add when she looks at me questioningly. I have to be careful how much I tell Maggie to keep her safe, but that’s hardly a secret.
Maggie wrinkles her nose. “Those girls aren’t going to have an easy life then if that’s who their father is.”
“They already haven’t. Their mother died years ago. Caterina is their stepmother. They’ve been through a lot since then, too. Sasha helps with them, and from what I hear, she’s really good at it.”
“There was someone else waiting when she got there, but Sasha said it wasn’t a problem. Someone named Max?” Maggie shrugs. “He was very handsome. Looked like he had a crush on Sasha.”
“He’s another of Viktor’s wards, so to speak, like Sasha. A defrocked priest.”
Maggie snorts, taking another sip of her drink. “A priest? Sasha looked at him like she couldn’t get enough of him too. Seems futile.”
I shrug, glancing over the menu. “I think she has a bit of a crush on him, for sure. But from what I hear, he tries to keep his vows anyway, regardless of whether or not he’s defrocked. So it’ll never be anything but that.”
“Everyone in your world lives such a complicated life.” Maggie sets her glass down, contemplating for a moment. “Doesn’t it get exhausting?”
“Everyone except you,” I tease her lightly. “And yes. It does get exhausting. Frequently. But it’s my life, and changing it isn’t an option.”
Maggie’s mouth twitches, and I know she has something to say about that, but she keeps it to herself. The waiter comes by before she can say anything else. We order lemon ricotta pancakes to split, salmon eggs Benedict and truffle fries. I can feel a heaviness settle in my chest, wanting to tell Maggie more of what’s happening, the things bothering me.
“You look worried,” Maggie says softly when our food arrives, the pitcher of Bloody Mary refreshed. “What’s going on, Saoirse? I know yesterday was scary—but you haven’t looked like a happy bride since the wedding. It’s not a conventional marriage, I know—but there’s got to be more to it. I know you, Saoirse. Something is weighing on you, and I wish you’d talk to me. As much as you can.”
I stab a piece of salmon with my fork, weighing what I can safely tell her and what I can’t. Kings’ business is always off the table—but a lot of what I’m upset about and struggling with has nothing to do with the Kings and everything to do with Connor.
“Connor and I have an arrangement,” I say softly, pushing my fork into one of the pillowy-soft pancakes. “We have since I was in London before we were even officially engaged when he was still deciding what he wanted to do.” I pause, feeling slightly embarrassed. It’s hard to explain to anyone, even my best friend, how unconventional our marriage is supposed to be. Maggie already thinks I put up with too much. What will she think of this?
“An arrangement?” Maggie asks curiously, picking up a truffle fry and popping it into her mouth. “What do you mean?”